The Soliloquy of the Boy who Cried Wolf
by im-percy-nator
Summary: In 1936, Nico di Angelo makes a friend in an older boy with skin like rust and eyes like sea foam. Nico meets another boy with eyes like sea foam in 2007.


_The first and last lie that I ever told you..._

* * *

Venezia had been a good place to have her children.

Maria had been born there, after all, and despite the struggling, irritable country to their north and the rising tensions between North and South Italy, the Queen of the Adriatic was as beautiful and serene as ever.

And as the pastel of the afternoon sky melted into the horizon, the sounds of her little son's laughter danced around her balcony-garden like a ghost, though he was fast asleep. She picked one of Bianca's strewn dolls out of the flower bed...sometimes you can hear the sounds of the past in the present if you let your mind wander.

The water beside her home was dark and calm, crashing gently against the sides of the canals like the fluid movements of a cobra.

Venice was silent.

* * *

It was 8:36 on a Friday afternoon in Summer; the 17th of July, 1935, to be precise. She was picking bits of herbs-chamomile and oregano and thyme-and dropping them onto a cloth. She might have seemed like the same, calm Barista she had been seven years before, but inside her stomach knotting with nervous energy. _He_ had said he was going to come tonight. Why on such short notice, she didn't understand, but she was glad to see him again.

She took off her sunhat (no longer a necessity anyways) and ran a hand through her hair. She'd need to take a shower before Hades arrived, and iron her little black dress, and..._merda!_ She hadn't told Bianca or Nico yet, and Nico had passed out hours ago-

Granted, though she knew Hades loved their children, he probably hadn't come to see them.

Brushing fallen bits of leaves and whatnot from her apron, the _bella donna _took up the corners of her cloth of herb and brought it inside to set it on the kitchen table.

"Bianca!" She called, grabbing a tray and arranging the herbs on it to dry.

She heard groggy footsteps shuffling into their living room.

"Mamma?" She turned to meet the amenable, black pools of her daughter's eyes. The seven-year-old stood in the doorway of the hall, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

"Where you sleeping, Bi?" Maria grinned. "We're getting a visitor tonight."

Her daughter stopped rubbing her eyes and glanced up at her mother with wide eyes, waiting for the affirmative nod before rushing into her and her little brother's room to shake the boy awake.

She knew what that meant.

* * *

Hades, the Lord of the Dead, stood at the door of of a three-story apartment building, pulling on the cuffs of his tailored suit awkwardly. (Unfortunately) he couldn't pop into his mistress's house by way of shadow, lest their offspring were still running about, so he'd been forced to ring the doorbell of Maria's landlord for access to the stairs.

And _gods damn was it taking long. _Tapping his foot impatiently, he leaned back to look to his left; rows of buildings just like this one lined up next to each other so fitly that it seemed they were leaning over the canals in a slapstick-esque bow. He looked to his right and found very much the same thing. Behind him, the water bubbled up unhappily where it sensed its master's enemy (and elder brother) paced. Above him the sky crackled despite the clear night sky. He knew what was below him and he didn't want to look.

_"Ciao?" _In front of him the door swung open to reveal a short, bald-headed man with a forgettable face.

"_Khaíre-er, ciao. _I'm looking for my wife, I've returned from a business trip in America, and I'd like to see how my family's getting about. Could you tell me if one of your tenants is a young woman with two children?"

The small man furrowed his brows for a moment before his gruff face lapsed into one of surprise. "You mean, eh, the di Angelo's? I though Maria was a widow or a-" The landlord shook his head, thinking better of his phrasing. "They're occupying third floor."

Hades frowned and nodded, brushing past the man. The stairs were strangely placed: while the lobby itself was simple and cozy, the opening to steps were cornered off. Upon entering, he could see that they were sheltered into a corner to make room for each floor, as the doors to each of the levels opened onto one of the squarely spiraling sets. He sighed at the less-than-ideal architecture of the place and stepped into the shadows to reappear on the third set.

Maybe walking was below him, maybe he was lazy. Either way...

* * *

The night went smoothly, Bianca clinging to her father's shirt and Nico lingering shyly in the hall, unused to his father's presence and not exposed to the world enough to understand what "father" meant. Maria laughed softly and tried to coax him out like a cat, but gave up and mentioned that he'd filter out on his own when he got used to the god. Whispering in Greek, their parents exchanged promises to stay for the night and to make it worth while, laughing and clanging their wineglasses together delicately.

After kissing his half-mortal daughter good night, he watched his mistress sway into her bedroom-only to be interrupted by something small running into the backs of his legs and feeling little arms wrap around his calves.

"Nico?" A head nodded into the crooks of his knees.

"Goodnight, child."

* * *

Note: I'm probably gonna go back and edit this later, but I was just so excited to get it posted.

Confused? It's just an opening, there'll be a time-skip in the next chapter and we'll introduce the "im-percy-nator".

Venezia - Italian for "Venice"

Barista - employee in a cafe

Merda! - Italian for "shit!"

Bella donna - Italian for "beautiful woman" (think belle)

Amenable - docile

Ciao - Italian for "hello" or "goodbye"

Khaíre - Ancient Greek for "hello"


End file.
